This year, Taylor Payne, the Athens County Foundation's COMCorps Volunteer, will share her reflections on the 2027 LAC Flagship Cohort. Her words have taken me back 20 years to when I embarked on my official leadership journey. I felt much the same as she does- what am I doing here? Is this a space to which I belong? Spoiler alert: yes! The connections I made and the friendships I forged are real and strong, built on our shared love of community; that feeling was evident on Friday, October 9, when alums gathered at the Women's + Summit for a quick pic. Though Susan and I were in the first class, we rose from our handshelf positions with ease! -ep

Leadership is Funny v.2

On the last day of September, I drove out to Hocking Hills for a two-day opening retreat as a member of the Flagship Cohort of Leadership Athens County, a nine-month leadership program offered by the Athens County Foundation.

The drive was windy, long, early, and completely silent; my car's Bluetooth doesn't work, and the radio stations were perpetually fuzzy no matter how many times I scanned.

All this to say, I had a lot of time to think. Leadership, however, never really crossed my mind — not because I didn’t care about the program—but because I thought I wasn't one.

I had been working at my first full-time position post-undergrad for exactly four weeks. Reading the bios of the leaders I’d be learning alongside gave me hives: business owners, community leaders, non-profit executives, and creatives with years of experience and service to their community.

I felt left behind: what could this program teach me that I didn't already know myself?

Leadership, to me, was innate—you had it, or you didn't. And on that drive, I internalized these hints of doubt without even realizing it.

Despite my uncertainty, I pulled myself out of my car and into the conference center’s lobby, admiring the view and nervously making my way to my cohort.

But what I walked into wasn’t the hushed whispers of cliquey professionals like I thought it would be: it was laughter.

During introductions, this cohort brought levity to their accomplishments, speaking humbly of feats I found beyond impressive. They welcomed my Gen-Z-ish skepticism towards professional development, and my half-baked thoughts about what leadership was to me.

Right before lunch, we were told we would be participating in a blindfolded maze activity by Joe Crowley, an accomplished educator and our facilitator for the morning.

With partners of the facilitator's choosing, one person would be blindfolded while the other gave directions.

I went first. Blindfolded, I made my way through the maze without running into a single obstacle. I thought it was easy, that it was driving home the simple point of listening.

During lunch, though, my partner revealed that our facilitator had actively moved objects in the maze, that he had to pivot his directions to make sure I understood how to move forward—all while I giggled my way through blind.

And I did!

Not because I could listen well or knew where I was going, but because I could trust that if I tripped, we could laugh about it. That if I stumbled, my leadership wouldn’t be compromised.

Because leadership isn't always stoic, though it can be.

It's joking through the awkwardness and laughing at our own shortcomings. It isn’t knowing you can lead others through a maze, but trusting yourself to be led, too.

The self-doubt I felt during that quiet car ride never fully left, but that joy of connecting, laughing, and building trust with a cohort I once found intimidating more than makes up for it.

Because leadership is funny, if you let it be.